How an Unanswered Letter Made Me Lose Two Family Members Forever

The legacy of silence is long-lasting.

Photo by Author

Last week, I needed my parents' death certificates, and while searching through my files, I stumbled upon the above letter. A memory surfaced of my parents bringing this letter to my house when I was pregnant with my third baby. This was a super-hectic time when I was a young mother waddling, working, and chasing after my two tiny daughters.

Michele Ball, who signed the letter, is a woman from Springdale, Arkansas. She was seeking to make contact with her birth father through U.S. Search, a database used to find missing family members before the general public had direct access to the Internet. It gave her 60 names, including my father’s.

I don't recall encouraging my parents to reply to Michele's letter, but I do remember that "Buddy" in the photo looked uncannily like my father.

See what you think.

Photo of my father in his naturalization photo

My parents immigrated to the United States in 1960. They came from different parts of northern Germany and kismet got them together soon afterward.

As a kid, I met my Oma (my grandfather had died in WWI) and my father's two sisters but never his brothers, Walter and Gunther.

Decades ago, Walter's body washed up on a river bank, and it was presumed he had taken his own life. No one knew what happened to my dad's other brother, Gunther.

My dad said Gunther took off and never came back. My dad also left home, taking work as a porter on a cruise ship. There weren’t a lot of work opportunities for young people in post-war Germany. Despite traveling around the world, my father still maintained contact with his sisters and mother.

My father never conveyed the slightest interest in looking for his only living brother.

I never understood why. Maybe the brothers didn’t get along, or their relationship reminded them of the poverty and starvation they endured during the war.

Knowing my mother, I had a sense that deep down she wasn't inclined to encourage their relationship or welcome more of my father’s family members into her inner circle. She could barely tolerate my father’s family as it was.

My dad's two sisters, Gisele and Ilona (yes, there's another one), weren't motivated to find Gunther either. In their defense, in the aftermath of war-torn Germany, it wasn't easy to discover missing loved ones.

Finding this letter in my parent's archives made me wonder why they never wrote back to Michele. Michele made it easy, too, giving both a return address and writing her phone number on the back of the envelope.

A phone call or note of encouragement could have gone a long way. What if they sent a photo of my dad so she knew she was getting warmer, even if they had nothing new to offer?

Their silence aimed at someone "searching for a long time and very hard" seems heartless now.

None of the information in Michele's letter matches our family history, but one look at Buddy's face tells me that Michele and I are related. Back then, I was too overwhelmed, and I don't remember asking if my dad thought "Buddy" was his long-lost brother Gunther.

Looking back, it seems really thoughtless that I didn’t take a greater interest when my dad was alive. Had I not been so preoccupied with my life, I would have asked more questions and encouraged my parents to reach out to her.

Had my mother been open to it (after all, she wore the pants in the family), I would have received the unwanted task of writing a letter to Michele. As a kid, I was in charge of all official correspondence for the Gawin Family. I had composed many a letter since my parent’s writing abilities were poor. But my third pregnancy was wearing on me, and I didn’t welcome one more thing to do.

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda" 27 years later is pointless.

That's all water under the bridge. I've tried to find Michele since then, but there's no trace of her under that name and address on the Internet. Her landline has been disconnected.

I looked for Buddy, and that search yielded zilch, too.

I will never know what happened to Michele or whether she found her "real" father. Even with technological advancements, some questions will forever go unanswered.

Never knowing a father is a special kind of pain. Having and then losing one is another. A father that vanishes into thin air leaves an endless ache in the heart. Daddy issues abound.

Dear Michele,

I hope you found the man in the picture, and that he was the loving father you deserved. I wish I could have given a piece of the puzzle so you could put your family tree together. Wherever the path led you, I hope you know that you are enough with or without him.

Love from the cousin you never met but still thinks of you.

How do you live with the regrets you still carry?

Drop a heart below if you enjoyed reading this piece 🤍 🤍 🤍

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I came across this quote from Buddhist teacher, Frank Ostaseski, and think it’s worth sharing.

When we help, we come from a place of power and leave people feeling helpless.

When we fix, we treat people as if they're broken.

When we serve, we meet the wholeness of a person from a place of our own wholeness.

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